


One Late Night

by cellostiel



Series: Cellostiel's Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Character, Dead animals, Gen, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 23:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13398813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellostiel/pseuds/cellostiel
Summary: “I think Phil an’ me are gonna break up.” Scott says, leaning on his axe.“Man, that sucks.” Devan gripes, resting his own axe over his shoulder. “You two were cute together.” He shifts the axe in his hands, then swings it, hacking into the leg of the corpse at their feet.“Eh, I think it’s been coming for a while. He never asks how my day was anymore, y’know?”~A story about two friends getting rid of a corpse.





	One Late Night

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my first original story posted on here! It was done as a prompt for my creative writing class, and it's probably the short story I like best from the class.
> 
> Enjoy, and let me know if there's anything else that needs to be tagged!

“I think Phil an’ me are gonna break up.” Scott says, leaning on his axe.

“Man, that sucks.” Devan gripes, resting his own axe over his shoulder. “You two were cute together.” He shifts the axe in his hands, then swings it, hacking into the leg of the corpse at their feet.

“Eh, I think it’s been coming for a while. He never asks how my day was anymore, y’know?”

“You talked to him about it?”

“I’ve tried, but he’s always ‘busy.’”

“Well, maybe you’re better off then. Now, you gonna help, or what?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott stands straight and hefts his axe onto his shoulder. “Where should I start?”

“Get the head. I’ll get the legs.”

“Aren’t we supposed to like, drain it first?” Scott asks, walking over to the head of the horse. The tarp crinkles under his feet. “To make it easier or something?”

“Hell if I know. Not like I’ve ever done anything like this before. But two hundred bucks is two hundred bucks.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Scott swings his axe at the head, winces at the sick crunch. “Uck.”

“Yeah,” Devan laughs. “It’s fucking gross, right?”

“Definitely.” Scott tries to pull the axe out, but it sticks in the spine. He grimaces, putting his foot on the neck to leverage the axe out. “How are things with Ally?”

“Well she doesn’t bitch at me like Kyle did, for one. I dunno, man, she’s cool. I like her.”

Scott pauses, regarding his friend. “Huh. You really do.” Devan shrugs, swinging at another leg, and Scott asks, “She know you’re out hacking up a dead horse so this guy’s little girl won’t find it dead Christmas mornin’?”

“Of course. I’m over all that lying and sneaking around shit. I’d rather she think I’m a sick fuck than a cheater. Phil know where you are?”

Scott finally gets the axe dislodged, staggering back with it. “Told him I was out drinking with you.”

“He was okay with that?”

“Eh, he thinks I drink too much. Maybe I do, I dunno.”

“Phil’s too uptight for his own good.” Devan says, stomping on the axe to get through a particularly tough ligament. “You need to find someone more relaxed.”

“God, this thing reeks. What are we even going to do with it once we’ve got it in the truck?”

Devan shrugs. “Take it to the lake, dump it in there?”

“That’s like, polluting, dude.”

“Well do you have any ideas?”

“I don’t know! Take it to a butcher or something?”

Devan snorts. “Who buys horse meat?”

“Plenty of people!” Scott swings his axe again, finally gets all the way through the neck. “Rich folks who eat game hen and peacock and dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“Well, maybe that’s just China or whatever.”

“I think you just said something totally racist, dude.”

“Well sue me for not thinking super straight when I’m chopping up some little girl’s dead horse!”

“Peony?”

Both men stop, looking at each other. Devan glances over his shoulder first, and sighs.

“I’m so going to Hell.”

Reluctantly, Scott looks, and a girl about ten years old stands behind them, a plush horse clutched in her tiny hands. Her eyes are shimmering with tears.

“What are you doing to Peony?” she asks.

Scott sets down his axe, holds out his hands placatingly. “Now, sweetie…”

“Daddy! There are strange men killing Peony!” The girl runs off, and Scott swears, dragging his hands over his face.

“We’re so fired.”

“At least we’ve got a fun story out of it.” Devan says, lifting his axe onto his shoulder.

“Shut up, Devan.”

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to check out my twitter @cellostiel and my tumblr @cellostielwrites!


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